


will he

by vbligs



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Smut, enemies-to-partners-to-reluctant-friends-to-friends-to-lovers trope, this is very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs
Summary: me? unable to play fallout 3 so instead writing shameless fluff ft. everybody's favorite punk baby pretty boy butch?yeah.





	1. Chapter 1

i always skip the first chapter cause i dunno how to name it lmao


	2. knots

Not again - not again. Beau shook in her Vault-patented boots as the Tunnel Snakes cornered her.

"Hey, look at the suh-suh-suh-stuttering **_bitch_**. She looks like she's boutta cry!" Wally Mack was a sinister fuck, and Beau's eyes couldn't help but water as he made fun of her stutter and grabbed her chin, "Guh-guh-guh _got_ nuthin' to say, huh?"

All of this - over a damn comment she made,  _under her breath,_ mocking Butch just so she'd have something to smile about for once.

"I-I-I'm suh-suh- ** _sorry_**! Puh-puh-puh-puh- _plea_ - ** _please_** , juh-juh-just _leave me_ al-al- ** _alone_**!" Her voice cracked off beat and you could barely understand her because of how hard she was trying to force the words out, "I-I didn-di-di-didn't mea-me- ** _mean_** it-it!"

Wally couldn't help but laugh, putting on a fake teary eyed face, "Wuh-wuh boo-hoo, gonna go cryin' t'your doctor daddy, huh? Huh? Fuckin' **_crybaby_** \- _you'd_ look better cryin' with yer lips around my **_cock_**. Tiny-Tits here won't get any action, so why not take what you can get, huh? I'll only fuck you every **_other_** day, howzat sou -" Wally looked up, alarmed, as Paul coughed and nudged him.

"Man, aren't you taking it too far? C'mon les'jus'...leave her alone, yeah man?" Paul couldn't stand the look on Beau's face. She was tiny and wheezing and 'asthmatic', whatever that meant, and he knew working her up would just make things bad for all them.

Wally really didn't give a shit though.

He shoved Paul, eyes dark and angry, "Man, this bitch badmouthed **_Butch_**! You a **_traitor_** to the Snakes, man? What would _Butch_ say, huh?" He was right in the sense of Butch not being there. For once, the infamous 'Serpent King' wasn't with his posse of goons.

For that, Beau was glad. Just dealing with Wally, Paul, and Freddie was hard enough, but Butch? There's a reason he called her 'Nosebleed,' and it wasn't because of radiation.

"Wh- No! I am **_not_** a traitor, ya bastard!" Paul growled, and shoved his Snake brother back, angry, and Wally retaliated with a punch. Freddie could do nothing but plead for them to stop, leaving Beau with an opening to escape, which she took, and as she ran off into the Vault, the three didn't even notice.

As she ran, Beau clutched her chest with one hand, the other furiously wiping tears as she wheezed for breath, letting her feet carry her to her hidey-hole. It wasn't much of one - she knew Butch (and probably the other Tunnel Snakes) knew about it - but it was _her_ hidey-hole.

So when she arrived at the old locker bay, opened up a long abandoned one, and disappeared into the little hole of a room that was concealed inside of it, she couldn't help but start sobbing. Big, ugly, _heart wrenching_ sobs, not caring for the moment if Butch or his cronies caught her. Caring infinitely more when she felt the beginnings of an asthma attack catch her throat.

Taking deep breaths to calm down, Beau retrieved her inhaler from her pocket, taking two quick puffs. She couldn't do it in the open - Wally thought it was _**jet**_ and kept trying to steal it. So her hidey-hole was the next best place.

Beau took a moment for the medicine to flood her lungs, before bursting back into tears. This wasn't the first, or probably last, time he'd made comments like that, but this time it was infinitely more _graphic_ and she couldn't handle it.

And the teasing - it wasn't _her_ fault she stuttered so badly. It was _theirs_. They made her so _**afraid**_ to talk, she - she couldn't help but -

And then she was back to gasping sobs, completely oblivious to the racket she made, and _whose_ attention it brought.

 _The **Serpent King**_.


	3. okay

Butch heard the sobbing as he paced the hallways, smoking angrily.

He didn't understand where it was coming from - sounded like inside the walls, but that was impossib...wait.

Butch stepped forward, pressing his ear to the wall, and his cigarette falling out of his mouth as he heard strangled, muffled sobs from somewhere beyond the metal - so agonizingly painful that his gut twisted, and his throat clenched up as he thought about who was in pain.

There was only one person he knew of that hung out in the walls.

_**Beau Miller**_.

He inched forward, using her rapidly softening crying to lead him to the old locker room - _of course_ \- because that's where she hid.

That's where Beau _always_ hid.

He **_could've_** tormented her in there, sicced his boys on her and she wouldn't be able to escape...but it just didn't feel _right_.

Butch left it alone, and let her have the space to herself.

Today though? It'd be him invading, going into _**her**_ space and having _**her**_ possibly lash out him, and _God_ knows what else.

The worst part? Butch didn't even know **_why_** he was so concerned. He mentally chastised himself as he opened the locker door to discover a crawl space, and past that, a little room filled with a **_fuckton_** of broken pip-boy 3000a's and b's and musical shit, lit up by soft yellow lights and covered with downy, warm quilts.

_Cozy_.

He could see from where he crouched that it'd be a tight squeeze for someone of his bulk, but Beau, with her short stature and slim figure, would've been able to go in and out easily.

' _It's Beau shaped_ ,' he thought to himself, chuckling a bit before sobering up. This was the girl he _**tormented**_ for God's sake!

" _C'mon_ , Butch, getta _hold_ of yourself," he muttered softly, starting to squeeze himself into the locker.

He _almost_ didn't fit.

And, he _almost_ got kicked in the face.

As soon as Beau saw him, her wishy-washy quiet sadness disappeared, replaced by fear at seeing **_him_** in her hidey-hole. She snapped her foot towards him, before he caught it, and popped fully in as she scrambled back into the corner farthest from him, disturbing the quilts she had put down and crushing small mechanical parts underfoot.

He held his hands out, usual smirk fixed in place, but his heart just wasn't in it and anyone who could see him would get that. " _Jesus_ , Bow -" he winced internally on how he mangled her name, making it go from elegant and beautiful to just plain _**ugly**_ , "- Whassa' matter wit'yo - oh, _**fuck**_!" Turns out, he wasn't fully in the room after all. His legs were _stuck_ on something, so he couldn't back out nor come closer to Beau. _Poetic justice_ , he mused.

She hiccuped, softly, eyes rapidly searching him to see if he was tricking her, just trying to get her to relax so he could fuck with her.

It was evident in his eyes that he wasn't. His words proved it further.

"... _Jesus_ , Bou, I ain't gonna **_hurt_** you, for...once..." Butch trailed off, genuinely startled as she surged forward and wrapped her arms around him, nestling her face into his chest and sagging, still and silent for just a moment before she started sobbing again.

This time, the tears were silent, and he could feel them soaking into his shirt, could feel her body shake as she _hiccuped_ and _wheezed_ softly, trying and failing to regain control over her flailing emotions.

He didn't know what to do with his _hands_ , didn't know how to comfort her. All he could do was look at her, openmouthed and in shock.

That was until she looked up with those soft doe eyes of hers. He _used_ to fantasize about her looking up at him, smiling, wearing _**his**_ jacket, being _**his**_ girl - nah. Wasn't gonna happen.

But the eye contact felt charged with... ** _something_**. She didn't blink, only a few more tears slipping down her cheekbones and onto his shirt as her arms slipped around to hold the lapels of his leather jacket, knuckles _white_ with how hard she grabbed ahold of him.

Butch thought that was going to be the most shocked he'd ever felt, but when something changed in how they looked at eachother, and she darted up, cheeks flaring, and kissed him? Top of the _list_ of shocking things, that's for sure.

What a sight they made, both on their knees, Butch's feet trapped in a locker, as the peculiar girl he _**loved**_ to torment clutched the lapels of his Tunnel Snake outfit, tears streaking down her, face, long tracks down her chin.

The strangest part though was how she pressed her lips to his, eyes closed and eyelashes fluttering as she planted a firm kiss to the lips of her long-time bully. His eyes, wide open and surprised, hands out away from her, not knowing **_what_** to do, _**what**_ to say, _**what**_ -

And then it was over just like that, ending with her darting back, not _quite_ far enough that he couldn't still grab her if he really wanted.

It only took a moment before she started apologizing.

Only took a moment for him to grab her soft cheeks and pull her into _**another**_ kiss, soft and heady and _**sweet**_. Unlike any other kiss he'd had, this one had...meaning. It was a conversation without words.

He _**savored**_ it, he _**loved**_ how she sank into him with a relieved groan, arms quickly wrapping around his neck, fingers oh-so-gently toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, carding through it and lightly scratching his scalp and neck with her nails.

All coy and sweet and - **_fuck_**.

He groaned as she pulled, just rough enough to where it stung in a good way, loving the feeling of her heartbeat fluttering under him. Butch's hands wandered from her face, smoothing down her sides to set down safely on her hips, rough calloused fingers catching on the soft fabric of her dress.

And then Butch scooped up and squeezed a handful of her hass, the only part of her that'd filled out, causing her to gasp against his lips, heat rising to her face as he took it as an invitation and slipped his tongue in, making her shiver.

It was so hot in her hidey-hole, so hot and she was so soft.

And Butch just couldn't resist making a scene.


	4. lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell by now, I'm using joji's 'will he' for inspiration.

Beau couldn't _breathe_.

Between the kissing, and Butch laying over her (she managed to get him unstuck, seeing as his pants had caught on a jagged edge she needed to file out) with his forearms trapping her where she reclined, face hotter than the old light bulbs surrounding them. His hair was mussed, her fingers ruining the perfect pompadour he usually sported, and instead of his usual cocky expression, Butch looked like he was having a revelation, like a religious man hearing the voice of God. 

 ** _Butch_**.

Beau was having an asthma attack and a panic attack and a heart attack all at **_once_**.

She couldn't  ** _breathe_**.

Beau was kissing Butch.  _Butch_. The guy who had taunted and teased and fucked with her for  _years_. A guy she had no business having a stupid, petty crush on.

Yet here she was, cradling his face in calloused hands that surprised him with their roughness. He'd expected her hands to be soft and delicate, a girl's hands according to everything he'd ever been told, but instead got ones with little scars over the knuckles and fingers worn rough by working on Pip-Boys. Beau could tell he hadn't expected her hands to mirror his.

It was _satisfying_ to surprise him, she was learning.

But that didn't excuse what she was doing, pulling his face to hers with a breathless laugh as he closed the difference and locked lips with hers. Her hair was wild, she could feel it from where his hands had tangled, she probably looked like she'd just been fucked. Didn't excuse how she felt him groan, the vibrations buzzing in her mouth as she pulled at his lip, gently, with her teeth. Beau liked the way he inhaled, _sharp_ , as her hips bumped up into his, arms shaking as she struggled to hold herself up. She didn't like how her big, circular glasses kept hitting the edge of his cheekbones, although it was oh-so- _satisfying_ when he laughed, a deep rumble that ran up from his chest and made her shiver. She didn't like how she was so dis-proportioned, but was glad that he couldn't run his hands along her body without falling.

Beau felt like she was going crazy, she  _shouldn't_ be kissing Butch. He and his goons made her cry all the time, and he didn't care about her.

She shouldn't be _kissing_ him...but why did it feel so _good_ to?

She pushed him off of her, not making him move, just...no more kissing. Faces close enough to touch again but far enough they could see each other in entirety.

So she couldn't help but study him as he looked disappointed.

...He probably thought she was _easy_.

Thought she would be a quick fuck and then _gone,_ no more kissing for Beau, kissing was a thing of the past and now Beau was back to silently crying. Not as hard as before, but still there, still having little tears drip down from her eyelashes.

"But-Buh-Butch, wuh-wuh-wuh-why are yo-you ki-k-k-kiss-kissing me?" She looked up at him with big eyes, hating how she couldn't get a single word out without mangling it, chest heaving as she struggled to think straight, nervous because he wouldn't look away. And his face was red too. She hadn't noticed that at first.

"'Cause you kissed me, baby. Why else?" Butch's voice was strained and husky and breathless. His answer was straight forward, to the point, but she didn't take it at face value.

 _'Look at what happened to Susie,'_ Beau thought, chewing her bottom lip. _'I can't trust a word that he says.'_

"Nuh-No. I mea-mea-mean...God, fu-fuh-fuck...I mea-mean did Wally ma-ma-mak-make you do thi-this? I-I-Is this just his ne-neh-next attempt to mess wi-wi-with me, aft-af-aft-after earli-earlier? I...I duh-don't want t-t-t-to dea-de-de-deal with i-i-it if it i-is," Beau looked away, face reddening in shame and anger, sitting up fully and using one arm to furiously rub the tears away to no avail. Butch, however, cocked an eyebrow and looked at her, confused.

"Listen, baby, _nobody_ tells the Butch-man what to do. So I dunno what Wally said to ya', but - wait, what the fuck you mean, _next attempt?_ Why the fuck are you in here cryin', anyways?" Relief flooded her brain. Butch didn't know what she meant. Butch didn't know what Wally'd said to her. He was in here because of her, not Wally being a dick again.

She wanted to cry again, but she was already doing that, so the most she could do is offer him a sniffly, weak and watery smile and bite her lip as she tried not to stutter as bad when she forced out the next sentence, "He-He...I ma-m-m-m-made. I made. A-A mean co-comment. About yo-you-you. An-And Wally hea-he-heard it. So he an' P-P-Paul and Fre-F-F-Freddie, th-they cornered me and Wa-Wally...and...and..." she took a gulp of air, surprised at how patient he was being with her. Usually, by now, he and his cronies would be making fun of the stutter, and she'd stutter more as a result. Not this time, apparently.

His voice was solemn when he touched her cheek, thumb gently swiping away a tear, "You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna. I don'wanna force ya' or nuthin'..." And that was the single nicest thing Butch had ever said to her.

Jesus.

She couldn't even function, turning red under his stare and looking away, only turning back when Butch softly guided her face towards his by the chin.

"Look a'me, okay?" He breathed, rocking back onto his haunches and wrapping her up in an embrace that smelled like leather and cologne and sweat and blood and Butch.

He held her against his chest as she inhaled deeply and burrowed in further, eyes drying, finally, and she calmed down enough to think.

"Yuh-Yuh-You must th-th-ink-in-ink I'm eas-easy, huh?" She mumbled, voice soft and muffled by his shirt, but still loud enough that he heard it. She felt his arms stiffen around her as he processed what she'd just said.

"...What?"

"Ea-Easy. Think that I-I-I'm gon-go-go-gonna give y-y-yyy-you a quic-quick fuck 'cause you-you came in he-he-here to see wh-why-y I was cry-cry-c-c-crying. Probab-bab-ba-Probably think I'm a big ba-ba-baby for cry-crying. Wh-Wh-Why are y-yyy-y-you even in he-he-h-here with m-mm-me, Butch?" She couldn't stop rambling, the words pouring out of her as her tears dried up, finally. Every creak of leather, every time she heard his heartbeat, more came out, until she felt empty.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke, voice thick with some sort of emotion, "You...Bea- No, wait, hold on," he was going to make some sort of grandiose speech, why hold it off? Why wait to probably confirm her fears?

"How do I say it right?"

Another moment of silence, wherein she looked up and met his eyes, glasses askew and face flushed, "Say wha-wh-what?"

"Your name. I wanna say it right, okay?"

Beau swallowed thickly, tongue darting out and wetting her chapped lips, "Beau. You s-ss...say it like Beau."

The silence was deafening, only broken by their heartbeats which rang in their ears.

"...Beau."

It sent an electric shock through her, numbing her fingers and leaving Beau's lips parted in a small 'o,' in the split second after the feeling passed, she swallowed once more, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, "S-Say it. Say it-t-t again."

Butch inhaled, sharp, and Beau could feel the swell of his lungs under her fingers.

"Beau."

"A-Again."

"Beau, I-"

"No, again, pl-please."

He took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks gently and stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs, and when she breathed out his name as a little plea for _more, don't stop please,_  that turned Butch's ears  _red,_ "Beau, you ain't easy."

Beau's words ripped out of her mouth, startling her with their clarity and the force with which she spoke them, "More. Now. Don't stop."

It was only a name, only a name, but it had her neurons firing erratically, fingernails digging into his skin. He'd never said it right, never _ever_ said her name right, not in the nineteen years of knowing eachother. The way he seemed to cradle it, the way his mouth moved when he said her name, God, it was nearly  _pornographic_ how absolutely perfect it was. The way his voice shook as he tested it out, the deep rumble and the flush of his cheeks when he saw what it did to her - absolutely  _obscene_. And the way he bit those cupid bow's lips, perfectly shaped - she wanted to  _scream._ Butch was a fine specimen, but she'd never thought about him this way, never made a move, and when she'd dated the few people her age in the vault, them saying her name had  _never_ affected her  _this badly._

 _"Beau,_ you  _ain't_ easy, and this? This ain'a joke. Ya...You're importan' t'me," he gulped, voice lingering over her name, "You deal wit'my shit all the time, an' you're the only  _real_ person in the  _entire_ goddamn Vault! Like, you aren't...deluding yourself. You don' give a fuck about anything the Overseer says,  _Beau._ You're pretty an' kind to even my rude ass, an' you fix my Pip-Boy when I break it. You're smart and perfect and small - Hell," he cut himself off, looking away, tongue caught between his teeth as his face to his neck went red.

He almost didn't catch her whisper, too lost in his head.

_"Please - what...wha-what were you gonna sa-s-s-say?"_

Butch looked back at Beau, groaning low in his throat as he saw her pleading expression. She was too cute, too sweet.

"... _Fuck._ Alright.  _Fuck,_ Beau, I jus' wanna have you wear my jacket, an' I wanna see you jus' ab-so-lutely swallowed up by it. Fuck, stop me Beau if I'm too...gross, I guess, but I wanna make you  _scream._ I ain' kidding - I wanna have you in my apartment, wearin'  _nuthin'_ other 'an my jacket, I wanna see your face all red an' cute as I eat you up. I wanna make you happy, make you feel  _good_ , Beau. I wanna have you ridin' my face, I wanna feel your thighs 'round my head an' I wanna see your eyes big an' wide and full'a love an' I wan your fingers in my  _hair_ and I wanna make you  _scream my name,_ I wan' every bastard in the Vault to know you're  _mine,_ I wanna make you mine, Beau. I wanna hold your hand an' I wanna kiss you outside a' ths hidey-hole. I wanna call you cute an' I want you to be my girl, Beau,  _fu-"_

And before he could finish, she was reaching up and dragging him down so his body hunched over hers, lips smashing together like a hurricane, breath snatched away as their mouths moved in tandem, his hands flying to her shoulders and then around her waist, pulling her close, close,  _closer._ Hips rolling, breathing labored, and groans everywhere.

And their lips on each other, devouring.


End file.
